


Over the Edge

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-03
Updated: 2005-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helo has had just about enough of this shit, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 2.09. Written straight to my journal. It's been percolating in the background, the result of some unwarranted Helo bashing. Helo's not the only one who's had enough, apparently. :P

He emptied his clip into the target, trying to empty his mind of all the snubs and slights he'd suffered through this day from hell. Gods, how he prayed this would end soon. He'd never before been the target of such summary judgment and whispers behind his back ( _...should've left the bastard on Caprica..._ ), never been dismissed as useless or untrustworthy ( _...heard he's a Cylon collaborator..._ ) in his life and he didn't like it.

Unfortunately, as he hit the switch to bring the target forward, he learned that it was all still there. Nothing had been emptied, the memories still trampled through his brain ( _...toaster lover..._ ), leaving anger and cynicism in their wake ( _...moron..._ ), threatening to destroy the man he had been and wanted to be again.

Seeing the hole in the target where the bullseye had once been, Helo pinned a new sheet in place and sent it back further ( _...space 'em both..._ ), slammed a fresh clip into his gun, took aim and fired again and again.

It didn't help.

The door to the range opened behind him and he was no longer alone. To the sounds of someone shuffling through paper targets and ammo clips, Helo switched out yet another target, dropping the old one to the floor, it's heart torn out ( _...that freak in her belly..._ ) by bullets just like the previous half dozen.

Helo paid no attention to the man in the slot next to his as both targets flew down-range, one stopping long before the other. The difference in the distances drew his attention and he focused for just a second on the newcomer's target.

The whispering voices in his mind finally shut off, abruptly, and his mind stopped as if in anticipation. Hanging halfway down-range, waiting to accept the slugs of the man next to him, was Boomer's smiling face. The air was pulled from Helo's lungs. A chill ran down his spine followed by a sickening rush of adrenaline. As if from a great distance, light years away, he heard his own voice. "Take it down."

He looked at the other man then and he didn't know what the motherfrakker saw on his face, but the other pilot's face went dead white and then flushed bright red. "What did you say?"

Thinking that he should feel something but only aware of ice running through his veins, his voice still distant and steady, Helo repeated, "Take it down."

The red-haired pilot ( _Duck?_ ) glared at him. "Frak you."

Helo felt himself smile then and he knew there was nothing friendly or warm about the expression ( _...never be warm again..._ ). He stepped outside the barrier that separated him from the other shooter. "Are you disobeying a direct order, Lieutenant?" Still calm, still cold.

"It's just a target."

"It's the face of a woman I flew with for two years. A woman who was a damned good pilot and, from what I've heard, did more than her fair share of keeping this fleet alive. Take. It. Down." Afraid of himself, afraid that things might go way too far if Duck was really as dense as he seemed, Helo holstered his newly reloaded sidearm.

"That Cylon bitch shot the Old Man!" Duck dismissed Helo for the second time that day, turned and began to fire into Boomer's likeness.

Some distant part of Helo's brain was amused that none of the shots actually hit their target. Waiting until Duck's clip was emptied, Helo stepped completely around the barrier -- _frak etiquette_ \-- and grabbed his arm, swung him around to face him. He had no intention of reporting the little shit for insubordination. He smiled again as he swung at Duck's startled face, felt the satisfying crunch as he broke his nose.

Duck went down gracelessly and, unlike with the Chief earlier that day, Helo let him fall. He knew he'd have to spend some time in the brig for this one, but he didn't care. It would be worth it.


End file.
